Trumpety Dumpy Off A Clintonesque Wall

I hate to report on the weather.

It don’t look good for the

Weakened.

They’re sick and fed up.

Tired of their lot.

Looking for alternative stipend.

Good you say go.

No mama ho.

But you still full

Of their groceries.

U think a bit.

U made from shit.

God shit,  your Dada,  who cares?

Shit who you be.

You cannot free

That which is thee.

This much please see.

Thank you, friend.

Barry out.

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